


A New Skin To Hide The Scars

by raiyuki76



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 2, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Modification, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyuki76/pseuds/raiyuki76
Summary: Fjord never stopped to wonder if he was comfortable in his own skin. He tried new ones on all the time, but he had never thought about what that truly meant to him.





	A New Skin To Hide The Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [star charts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523681) by [losebetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losebetter/pseuds/losebetter). 



Fjord looked into the dirty and cracked mirror right as his illusion began to fade. He watched as pale pink skin faded to that familiar green, and as blue eyes got lost in a wave of yellow. The scraggly grey hair on his chin fell out and faded into dust and his tongue ran over his teeth as his own face returned. He tried to ignore the jagged scar that rose from his top lip, as he always did. 

His hand subconsciously came up to his face, fingers sliding under his lip as his nails began to grate against the nubs of his tusks. His eyes stayed locked with those of his reflection as his mind wandered to the quest that the Mighty Nein was on next. He could hear the gentle scraping, but as always, it faded out of his attention as he thought of more important things. 

“Didn't you agree to stop that?” a voice suddenly asked. Molly entered the room, sliding his pack off his back and onto the worn floor of their cheap inn. 

It took Fjord a moment to remember what Molly was referring to. The moment he did, he withdrew his hand, and smirked. 

“Yeah, sorry bout that. Sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it,” he murmured, the carefully maintained accent sliding smoothly out of his mouth. He ran his tongue over the remaining nubs as his fingers itched to move back into their previous place. 

Molly maintained eye contact for a moment more, the bright red looking deep into Fjord's yellow ones. Then, he moved on with a shrug, sliding his ostentatious coat off as he got ready for bed. Whether he was satisfied with Fjords explanation or not, the half-orc didn't know. Nor did he care. For once, it had been the truth. 

Fjord looked back at the mirror and held his hands firmly at his sides, ignoring the urge to bring them back up to his lips. Suddenly, his eyes found that jagged scar once more, and a flash of memory invaded his mind, showing him red blood and pale ivory slicing through the green of his face. He shook his head, trying to free his mind of the memory and to stop the phantom pain that suddenly bloomed in his jaw. 

.......

Jester batted her eyelashes at him once again and Fjord felt a tiny wave of annoyance. She mouthed “Oskar” at him with a dramatic swoon before twirling away, completely caught up in her own joke, as always. 

Jester's humor normally didn't bother him, but this particular joke was starting to get under his skin. He kept his face neutral though as he followed the group along, everyone having already moved on from the horrid jest. His mind wandered a bit as they traveled through the dark taverns but he found it difficult to keep his mind away from the topic of the Oskar joke. 

Perhaps it wouldn't bother him so much if she actually meant any of it... And perhaps it wouldn't bother him so much if it were the only joke like that that she made. 

There wasn't much for it though, when you travel with a cleric of trickery. Everyone in the group would end up being the butt of some form of joke. In his case, she just happened to pick a somewhat tender topic. 

Things would probably be easier if he spoke up and asked her to pick something else to joke about, but he'd rather drink some of Nott's acid before admitting he was bothered by them. Besides, it might make things worse if he did ask. Gods above know that telling people to stop had never worked before. 

Besides, it was only a minor annoyance. Fjord could deal with off hand jokes about his appearance. They had more important things to deal with anyway. 

…

Fjord nodded his thanks as he turned away from the elderly gentleman he had been speaking to and returned to Caleb and Nott. He waited until he was far enough away before sliding back into the drawl he used around the Nein.

“No luck that way. Looks like we'll need to travel further south,” he muttered, the accent feeling right as he spoke. He almost forgot it entirely, but Caleb's sharp eyes were focused on his again and he was reminded of how fascinated the wizard was with his ability to change his voice so easily. 

Their eyes held each others' for but a moment before Caleb looked away, his pale blue eyes always more keen to break contact then Fjord's. But he couldn't forget the wizard's keen gaze as he spoke. 

Not that it mattered. Fjord was well practiced enough that his true voice wouldn't slip. He was certain of that. 

Ever since Fjord had been exposed to the strange variety of dialects, accents, and tones that different voices could take, he had been enamored. Thanks to that early experience, he had far more practice with changing his voice then he did with disguising his face. It was as easy as breathing to him now, and he could use it whenever he felt the urge without having to be concerned with using his store of power.

Why Caleb was so enamored with it was beyond him. With Fjord's sailing past, it wasn't too hard to imagine how many dialects he would have been exposed to in various port cities. It was pretty obvious why the skill would be so helpful to him too, so it really shouldn't be surprising how good he had become at utilizing it.

There was a certain sense of relief when Fjord hid behind different accents, covering himself with layer upon layer of deception. It let him control just one little bit of how other see him, and that gave him a power he had desperately wished for when he was a kid. 

.......

Fjord stared up the ceiling above him as he waited for sleep to take him. It had been a slow few days for the Mighty Nein and his mind had time to wander far to often lately. He scraped absentmindedly at his tusks for a moment before remembering that he aught to probably stop. He continued for a bit, indulging in the strange sense of satisfaction that he felt when he scratched away at the bone before finally taking control of his hand and pulling it away. 

He thought for a moment about that unusual but familiar feeling of satisfaction. He hadn't noticed it until that conversation and the subsequent attempts from him to curb the habitual grinding down of his tusks. 

He remembered that it had hurt (a lot) the first few times he scraped away at the offending bones. They had been sensitive for a long time afterwards too. But he couldn't remember when during his life the feeling of pain had turned into whatever strangely pleasant feeling he felt now. Though now that he thought about it, the scraping isn't really what felt good. It just felt like scratching really, registering as neither pain nor pleasure. Yet his body was always fairly certain that grinding the tusks down was something it wanted to do. He absentmindedly spit out a tiny shard of bone.

Perhaps even stranger was trying to decide whether he wanted his tusks back or not. He hadn't seen them in years, and back then, he didn't have illusion magic to hide behind if he so wanted. Honestly, he really didn't want to see them again. But by this point, many of the Mighty Nein had taken to reminding him to not scrape at his teeth anytime they saw him, and he found himself obliging out of some desire for the topic to die. 

His mind wandered to illusion magic again as his hand drew up and scraped at his tusk once more. He was quite pleased with his new found powers of illusion. They helped to accentuate the work he had long put forth in changing his voice and mannerisms. 

He could change faces, voices, inflections and quirks. He didn't like to think he had mastered the art of disguise just yet, but he was pleased with the progress he was steadily making. He thought back on several mannerisms he had been studying as his mind began to fade towards the gentle embrace of sleep. 

Then, his memories settled on Jester as she jokingly called him handsome. His mind moved unpleasantly back towards wakefulness as another part of him pushed back against the subtle pain of the memory. 

He knew she probably didn't mean much by it. Hells, she might even not be joking. Fjord scoffed at that thought, fully awake once again as he considered the silliness of his tired musings. 

He slowly circled his thoughts back around to disguises, hoping to drift off towards sleep once more. However, he was far too awake, and found himself thinking about things he hadn't thought about in a very long time. 

Was he truly comfortable in his own skin? He thought so. It wasn't perfect, and he was very well aware of his own limitations. Disguises helped him work around those limits. Was he as comfortable as Jester or Molly? Probably not. But that was ok. 

He didn't really need to like his given body though. It wasn't necessary, because now, he had the power to do something about it. So what if his skin was green? So what if he had tusks? He could wrap himself up in any skin he wanted and hide behind an accent so well, that even his new friends probably couldn't tell who he was. Hells, maybe even his old friends wouldn't recognize him. 

The thoughts circling in his mind weren't pleasant and he found himself tossing and turning through the night. He eventually faded into a restless sleep, his bad habits and self hate temporarily forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! Please feel free to leave any feedback in the comments!
> 
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